“Went to see her?  For heaven’s sake, what did you do that for?”

“Because I cared for him,” Magsie said, coloring.

“For heaven’s sake!  You had your nerve!  And what sort of a person is she?”

“Oh, beautiful!  I knew her before.  And she said that she would not interfere.  She was as willing as he was; then—–­”

“But now she’s changed her mind?”

“Apparently.”  Magsie scowled into space.

“Well, what does he say?” Billy asked after a pause.

“Why, he can’t—­or he seems to think he can’t—­force her.”

“Well, I don’t know that he can—­here.  There are states—­”

“Yes, I know, but we’re here in New York,” Magsie said briefly.  A second later she sat up, suddenly energetic and definite in voice and manner.  “But there are ways of forcing her, as she will soon see,” said Magsie in a venomous voice.  “I have his letters.  I could put the whole thing into a lawyer’s hands.  There’s such a thing as-as a breach of promise suit—­”

“Not with a married man,” Billy interrupted.  Magsie halted, a little dashed.

“How do you know?” she demanded.

“You’d have to show you had been injured—­and you’ve known all along he was married,” Billy said.

“Well”—­Magsie was scarlet with anger—­“I could make him sorry, don’t worry about that!” she said childishly.

“Of course, if his wife did consent, and then changed her mind, and you sent his letters to her,” Billy said after cogitation.  “It might—­he may have glossed it all over, to her, you know.”

“Exactly!” Magsie said triumphantly.  “I knew there was a way!  She’s a sensitive woman, too.  You know you can’t go as far as you like with a girl, Billy,” she went on argumentatively, “without paying for it somehow!”

“Make him pay!” said the practical Billy.

“I don’t want—­just money,” Magsie said discontentedly.  “I want—­I don’t want to be interfered with.  I believe I shall do just that,” she went on with a brightening eye.  “I’ll write him—–­”

“Tell him.  Ever so much more effective than writing!” Billy suggested.

“Tell him then,” Magsie did not mean to betray his identity if she could help it, “that I really will send these things on to his wife—­that’s just what I’ll do!”

“Are there children?” asked Billy.

“Two—­girls,” Magsie said with barely perceptible hesitation.

“Grown?” pursued the visitor.

“Ye-es, I believe so.”  Magsie was too clever to multiply unnecessary untruths.  She began to dress.

“What are you doing this afternoon?” asked Billy.  “I have the Butlers’ car for the day.  Joe brought it into town to be fixed, and can’t drive it out until tomorrow.  We might do something.  It’s a gorgeous car.”

“I’m not doing one thing in the world.  Where’s Joe?”

“Joe Pickering?” asked Billy.  “Oh, he’s gone off with some men for some golf and poker.  We might find someone, and go on a party.  Where could we go—­Long Beach?  It’s going to be stifling hot.”